I want to remember everything: every sycamore and evergreen. Every insect swept up in currents floating past plates of glass is a monument I didn't lament as I passed by. It seems so easy for me to remain under roofs and believe that cement and carpet have covered all the hills, and, even still, there is no place left for us. What a lie. Abandoned buildings are half as empty as the lives they have left behind. After settling on killing Able... where to from here? So here's another parking lot for a new McDonald's (that's three this town has got). And if your town doesn't look exactly like mine, just give it time. We'll cover the Earth with identical developments. Every suburban home with a tire swing, an above ground pool, and a picket fence. The "American Dream" made manifest. Civilization at it's best? Every island colonized, culture neutralized. They'll say everything worked out for the best in the end, but what will you say?